


fragmentary passages

by masamune11



Series: Noragami x K [3]
Category: K (Anime), ノラガミ | Noragami
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Noragami Fusion, Convenient Fan-Theory, Crossover, Gen, Heavy Theory, Light MikoRei, Yato is Tsukuyomi, more characters to be added later on - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Title based on "Kingdom Hearts: Birth By Sleep - A Fragmentary Passage"</em>
</p><p><b>fragmentary</b> <em>[frag-muh n-ter-ee]</em>: consisting of or reduced to fragments; broken; disconnected; incomplete.<br/><b>passage</b> <em>[pas-ij]</em>: a portion or section of a written work; a paragraph, verse, etc.</p><hr/><p>Drabbles that fit into "Noragami x K" universe, ranging from 500 to 1,500 words, focusing mostly on the lives of regalia (and some other gods, but well...).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the regalia who slew his mistress (Gouki)

**Author's Note:**

> I have too many feels towards the gods and goddesses in this verse, so this happens.
> 
> Mostly unbeta'ed as usual. Some Hurt and Comfort, some Fluffs, some Angst--it really depends on my mood and availability to write.
> 
> Without further ado, kindly enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuyori _loved_ both of them. 
> 
> That was his undoing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one explains about the rumor that Yato heard in chapter three of "crossing lines". It is said that there was a goddess who loved her regalia so dearly that she refused to render judgement on him. This lead to more corruption until she eventually turned into a Jashin.
> 
> Well.
> 
> It should be sadder than that.

His god named him _Tsuyori_ , which is composed of two different characters: the word ‘power’ and ‘reason’. When he asked her the reason behind that name, Tagorihime-no-Mikoto only snickered and gave him a meaningful smile. “Simple. Because you hold the power to defend my reason." 

But Tsuyori never felt quite so. While his vessel form was a blade that the goddess used to banish evil and expel defilement, Tagorihime-no-Mikoto wielded Katari more often than she did him. He understood that Gouki—Katari’s vessel form—provided her with more flexibility and agility as he came in a pair of _wakizashi_ ; in a way, the teen regalia provided her goddess with more protection than he could give.

There was also the fact that his goddess adored the teen regalia too much.

If he were any other regalia, he would, perhaps, seethe in his jealousy try to dethrone the teen regalia from the pedestal where he lavished over Tagorihime’s affection. But Tsuyori can neither bring himself to hate the other regalia, for the latter is like a brother he never had, nor his goddess, for she granted him a second chance to _exist like human_.

(There was a gaping void in his heart, lying on top of his forgotten memories, that gnawed at his conscience. It made him feel incomplete; it made him feel that, had Tagorihime-no-Mikoto not named him in time, he would have degraded into something sinister—something _inhumane_.) 

Tsuyori _loved_ both of them.

That was his undoing.

* * *

Tagorihime-no-Mikoto was never known as a war goddess. Any commoners knew this; any gods and goddesses _acknowledged_ this. And yet, in any incarnations, she will always be one of gods and goddesses to step forward and be the vanguard. She was like a storm rampaging through the lines of her enemies, be they mere _ayakashi_ or barbaric _Emishi_. She showed such ferocity that sometimes Tsuyori forgot that _she was not made for war_.

The wound on her left side was proof to that. 

They were fighting against Emishi under the Heaven’s banner when she failed to block one of her assailant’s attack. It was a stab of javelin to her left side, deep enough to lock her in place. She would have lost her head then if Katari did not launch from her hand to deflect a sword-slash from another Emishi god. Tsuyori watched, in his vessel form, as Katari’s wakizashi form split in two—broken, unmoving, and _silent_. Everything else after that was a blur of grief, rage, fear, and regret. 

The shattered remains of Gouki was proof of Tagorihime’s ego, his shade of name—the torn bond that lingered at the edge of her consciousness—a poison that slowly corrupted her.

Tsuyori loved her too much to lead her to move on.

That was his sin.

* * *

_Jashin Tagorihime_ was graceful on her steps even when her mist poisoned minds of mortals and gods alike. She knew this, but still couldn’t care less; the grief in her heart screamed of agony and pain of being left behind. She yearned for the broken pieces of her favourite to return back, so that the two of them can resume their everyday life. So the lost goddess danced in hopes to recover her lost regalia, forgetful of her other that had raised his arm to create a borderline that divided life and death—a borderline that determined his deicide. 

Tsuyori had been masterful in manipulating his borderline. He can shape it to almost anything, from a simple line to a rapier than can stab anything. This was was he did: he made his borderline so narrow to the point that it pierced through her heart. She limped to his form like a broken doll, the wicked goddess’ eyes flickering with no signs of recognition at first before finally focusing on him. She smiled then, and Tsuyori knew that his heart had already broken into fine dust.

“…Ah… I chose the right name for you…” she chuckled through harsh breath, her form quickly fading from his grip. “…to defend… my reason… my wish…"

Tagorihime-no-Mikoto ceased to be after speaking her final words. 

Tsuyori died for the second time then.

(He felt something settling at the back of his mind when her spirit dissipated—a sense of power and determination to do what he was meant to do. Only later then he realised that he had proven his loyalty to his goddess through his deicide.

He became a blessed regalia—a _Hafuri_.

Considering that he had buried his own mistress, the title suited him, even when it tore at his heart.)

* * *

Heaven concluded that, due to extensive damages to her definition because of her transformation as a _Jashin_ , the role that Tagorihime-no-Mikoto once possessed will be run by another god. For Tsuyori, it was as if the Heaven ask him to become Nora, even if they were to remove his name and have him serve someone else. 

There was only one goddess who he would serve. 

Fortunately, Heaven decided on an alternative solution.

* * *

The child god was young and pure and _untainted._ Munakata-kami was a mess of jumbled personality; he could see facets of Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto and Tagitsuhime-no-Mikoto trying to surge free. They unbalanced him, in a way that may tear the stability of his mind.

(It reminded him of Katari during his fits of nightmare.)

A part of him wished for his goddess to surge free instead, because _sixty years he had waited for this moment: to be reunited with his goddess once more even when she was under a different name_ — 

—the other part of him quickly ground that thought to dust, even when it hurt ( _too much_ ).

Childlike violet eyes gazed at his brown ones, casting a pleading look that was mixed with confusion and heartbreak. "How should I call you?" 

Tsuyori held his breath and held him tight, so that he cannot see his regalia’s own distress. Eventually, the regalia replied, “you can call me in any way you want, my liege."

The regalia looked at his new master closing his eyes, as though he was preparing his new name ( _yet Tsuyori can never be ready to leave that name behind; he can never be ready for the things to follow_ ). But then the bond that tied him to her rekindled, the character in his palm felt _warm, like the rolling fog in the evening tide_. He dared not to face the child god afterwards, fearing his decision.

"Tsuyori,” the child god murmured, the strokes of his name in their shared bond reforming so valiantly that Tsuyori almost _sobbed_ , "I will call you Tsuyori."

It took him one moment to recompose himself, his embrace tightening protectively over his new god, before he replied, “it shall be as you wish."

That was how Reishi Munakata raised him back to _life_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **List of Regalias working under Tagorihime-no-Mikoto (Ri family [理]):**
> 
>   * Gouki Zenjou (善条剛毅, Zenjō Gōki) — human: 毅/Ki - Tsuyori [毅理] | vessel: Giki [毅器] | Form: a simple katana with black and blue handle (before he becomes blessed regalia)
>   * Takeru Kusuhara (楠原剛, Kusuhara Takeru) — human: 剛/take(ru?) - Katari [剛理] | vessel: Gouki [剛器] | Form: Dual wakizashi
> 



	2. come back again (Mikoto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome back, Mikoto."
> 
> Or:
> 
> In which the new Susano-O-no-Mikoto had names for everybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based on ["K: Return of Kings" 3rd video announcement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkU6SVkfPm4).

At first, there was _nothing_. Everything that he knew was _none_ and _there_ , until such realization finally manifested into _thought_ , and then, along with it, _awareness_. It felt like hanging onto a thin thread that slowly grew thicker—so slowly that perhaps eternity passed in that span of moment—until they finally solidified into a single question: _'who am I?'_

There was a part of himself—a disembodied voice that sounded like a big brother—that chuckled at such basic question. It never meant to leave him be in ignorance, because that voice resounded again, filling his empty vessel with assurance and sense of self, _'you_ _are Susano-O-no-Mikoto_ _, the brother they yearn for and the tempest that brings heaven's_ _purge_ _.'_

The darkness surrounding his senses suddenly dispersed into soft grey. It assumed the shape of a young girl's face, its owner's ruby eyes gazing at him in eternal yearning and her hair framing that heart-shape face delicately. Slowly, each shade recolored: the sky behind her (above her?) turning blue, her dress becoming vivid red, and the fog that was all around them dissipating away.

She was holding him. He was lying down before her, his head conveniently settled on her thigh. He could see her long hair hanging, the edges resting next to his head. The young girl was caressing his face gently when she realized that _he is awake._ The restlessness that hung in the air dispersed, and the young child-god thought that the girl's smile was enough to light the sky.

"Welcome back, Mikoto."

* * *

He calls his regalia with different names, even when their posthumous names  _blazed_ within him.

He called Kien _Kusanagi_ , based on his first incarnation's regalia, and it was not without reason. The blond-haired man's presence was like a rock in his mind, despite his silly and playful words. Trustworthy and witty, he can contend against any obstacles; come heaven or _yomi,_  Susano-O just knew that the regalia will always put him first and foremost.

He called Kushien _Kushinada_ , for she reminded him the elegance of autumn and the red that she brought with her (his other regalia did not understand this, but his _sister_ —the high queen—nodded in understanding that the young girl _is_ special). When he called her that, she only smiled mysteriously... as if there was a running joke which he had yet to capture—a joke born from whatever interaction they ever had with each other. It made him feel jealous of his previous incarnation.

He called Sakien _Yata_ , and the young man tried his best not to laugh. Mikoto replied his poor attempt with a kick at the shin. When the regalia was asked why he was laughing, Sakien's eyes twinkled with mischief, "It's just... did you know that that name is the high heaven's short name for _Yatagarasu_ -sama? I don't think I deserve that honor anytime soon, Mikoto-san."

Mikoto objected ferociously to his regalia, of course, because he thought that Sakien will always be better than that old crow.

There was still someone whom he had yet named, though. The word _'good'_  itched at the edge of his torn bond (there was someone whom his previous incarnation failed to save), like a healing scab that must not be scratched out before the wound healed perfectly.

Maybe, somewhere in this land, there was someone worthy to serve him under the name _Totsuka_ (to cover his scar and move forward).

* * *

When he finally met his brother for the first time, Mikoto called him Tsukuyomi. But then the moon god asked to refer him as _Yato_  instead.

It puzzled him, at first, because meeting the god brought him a sense of tranquility that no other god possessed. Bishamonten exuded honor and justice and Ebisu did prosperity and wealth, yet neither of them own a form of tranquility and _stillness_ that Tsuku- _Yato_  had. The former stayed true to the definition which they possessed, and yet _Yato_ strove to be what he was not.

"Why does he deny that name?" he asked to no one in particular, the question overflowing before he could even quell his tongue to _stop_. The one who heard this was his most beloved regalia, her ruby eyes glinting ethereally as though she was never a mere god's item. "Why does my brother hate it?"

 _Kushinada_  smiled sadly, "because that name brings sadness to him."

She brought his hands to join with hers, kneeling so that their eyes can meet properly. Those ruby eyes burned with warmth and sorrow and Mikoto wanted to do everything in his power to dispel it. Yet her smile remained, as if she had read his mind and continued, "because even when Mikoto love Yato- _kami_ 's tranquility, it is in that stillness that his sibling drowned."

* * *

He can not quite put a name on the recent Munakata-kami.

The god was graceful (like a rolling fog on the shore at night), kind (like _Kushinada_ , though in a different way), and _tempestuous_ (surprisingly like a violent tide). Yet those three qualities alone were enough for Mikoto to discern him from the rest of gods and goddesses.

Standing next to _Yato_ was like standing with a single presence—a tranquil (yet encapsulating) presence, but single still; standing next to Munakata was like standing with _three_. He could refer him with three different names ( _names that he had yet to rediscover, names that settled so close in his heart but ever out-of-reach_ ) and Mikoto just knew that he would heed his call.

Mikoto told the god exactly that when he met him at the open hallway belonging to his sister's castle and witnessed how his tailored smile faded, his kind visage breaking down into that of _longing_  before reforming back to one of comfort. "Because I am the embodiment of the three goddesses. I _am_  three, Susano-O-sama, and I prefer that you call me Munakata or any of the three goddesses' names."

"Well, I don't like it," the storm god huffed and tugged the edge the other's yukata—an explicit order for him to kneel down so that they can talk levelly. Mikoto heard him huffing in exasperation, but he ignored it. "Just because you are their embodiment does not make you _them_. You deserve your own name."

The wind stilled, the sound of rolling waves resounding inside his mind, the stench of corruption from a past belonging to someone else— _some other god that was him but also not_ himself—push it to roll off his lips, "Reishi."

The name tasted like _power and control_ , so different from that free rolling waves, that warm kindness, and that quiet grace. It suited him; the young Susano-O smiled and let the name roll out again, "Reishi. Yeah, it really suits you—"

He yelped when the other quickly pulled him into a hug, his arms tightly encircling around his small form. The storm god tried to push him away because _Munakata's tight grip hurt_. But he stopped trying altogether when he heard him murmuring apologies.  _'_ ' _Who are you apologizing to?_ ' he wanted to ask, and yet—

"You may call me anyway you want, Susano-O-sama, but please... not by that name... never by that name..."

—faced by that broken voice, he stopped altogether and let himself be the other god's anchor, even if just for a moment.

After that, he never referred him by that name.

(At that time, did not understand that it was the name that his previous incarnation bestowed upon the god—that it was the first gift that he bestowed when he first came to be. It was the name that Munakata loved but then discarded, because that name carried one tragedy too many.

Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto did not just kill his brother then, for he killed Reishi as well. His remains had faded to where his Susano-O now resided: _nothingness_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **List of Regalias working under Susano-O-no-Mikoto who are mentioned in this chapter (En family [炎]):**
> 
>   * Izumo Kusanagi (草薙出雲, _Kusanagi Izumo_ ) — human: 雲/Mo - Kien [雲炎] | vessel: Unki [雲器] — form: fire aura that allows Mikoto to create virtually almost _anything_ with it, from fire clouds, firestorm, to fire shield
>   * Anna Kushina (櫛名アンナ, _Kushina Anna_ )— human: 櫛/Kushi - Kushien [櫛炎] | vessel: Shitsuki [櫛器] — form: a normal comb that wards its user from minor corruption
>   * Misaki Yata (八田美咲, _Yata Misaki_ ) — human: 咲/Saki - Sakien [咲炎] | vessel: Shoki [咲器] — form: Mikoto's casual black jacket/divine garment
> 

> 
> * * *
> 
> Ryoen's kanji is based on one of Tatara's character [良], which loosely means 'good'.
> 
> The names that Mikoto refer his regalia as were actually their family names (and yes, that indicates that they are using their original names when they were alive). In a way, he does not call them with their true given name. Also there's a reason why Kushien is referred to as _Kushinada_ instead of Kushina.


	3. servant of three gods (Saruhiko)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She reached for his hand and grasped them comfortingly, her smile bright like the moon, “when you find him, promise me that you will stay by his side."
> 
> He did not understand his goddess' words until it was far, far too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going over 1.5k—it is so long that it should never be posted under this drabble. BUT. It's imortant orz It just shows that I want to write more about Saruhiko ~~and making him be gentler without snapping and tongue-clicking at every annoying thing ahahaha~~.
> 
> If it's OOC ~~because I feel it is~~ , kindly forgive me by much. 
> 
> Please kindly enjoy.

The earliest memory that _Mashien_ can recall was the everlasting green expanding right before his eyes, with his master standing by his side. It was to this scenery that he came to, not to the face of Susano-O, who was supposed to be his master.

The first being which he saw was, in fact, the man with blond hair and serene smile.

Ryoen's smile was like the sun (he could have been smote down by envoys of heaven for comparing a mere regalia to the High Queen, though he did not care that much then) and it really offset the gloom and doom that the first Susano-O exuded. Being recently cast away from the High Heaven's Court did that to anyone, he thought, so he could not really fault him for his less admirable behavior (he was supposed to be his master and he had the gall to let him awaken _not to the face of his name-giver_. If that was not act of neglect, Mashien knew no more). His presence was the only factor that made him _stay_ and not be swayed by the temptation of becoming Nora.

(Ryoen, _insightful_ exemplar of the storm god that he was, somehow got wind of this information and confronted him in a tea session. When he saw his concerned face, he wanted to strangle Sakien then, as the only one who knew this secret was that _man_.

The conversation ended up with a lecture for him to stay steadfast, because _everything will work out well—_ that he needed to be patient until change whisked him away to a better position.

But Mashien hated waiting; the lecture only settled to further aggravate him.)

When the god easily gifted him to his _offspring-but-not_ —the name Mashien faded away and was replaced by _Kurasa—_ he was overflowed with too many feelings. The regalia hated his former master for easily releasing him to another's care, and yet... if he did not do so, the regalia would have picked the choice to become Nora.

Ryoen's magic words proved to hold water after all.

* * *

Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto had many regalia serving under her, the number alone rivalling that of Vaisravna's. Her vessels varied from weapons to mundane everyday's items, with every piece having witnessed her power and kindness. The goddess of good worship spread her influence through many means—from exorcism to good deeds—after all, thus her regalia found their way to be of used to her, one way or another.

Kurasa served her by becoming her personal guide to "the person whom she seeks". She always brought him with her where ever she go, her explicit order being to trust his instinct and take her there. Kurasa tried his best, really, but in every direction that he gave her, what they got made no sense: an old fox pipe, a worn-out piece of cloth made of snake skin, and a necklace made of wolf and bear fangs. These things were discovered inside the belly of three Ayakashi that they encountered—and these three items made no sense.

He told her his exact thoughts. The goddess only smiled. "Because they are not as they seem, Kurasa-kun, though I don't fault you for not realizing this," she answered and gestured two of her regalia to scoot closer. Akisa and Tousa—the former having short messy dark hair which strands covered his right eyes while the latter having chin length brown hair—moved per her direction and lowered their heads in reverence.

"Come, Shuuki, Rouki," she urged, Akisa casting a knowing smirk to him before turning into his vessel form—a ceremonial folding fan used for divination—and leaped to her right hand. Tousa had turned into a stone basin with holy water.

She swung Shuuki slowly, the fabric that made its vessel glowing with blue light while the three items that were in question levitating over the ground, and flapped it in one half-circular motion. At that moment, the three items suddenly glowed white, before transforming into something akin to pieces of broken blade that matched to each other, saved for its missing _tsuka_. They glinted ephemerally under moonlight and Kurasa just _knew_ that that blade held power.

"Lo and behold," she whispered as she put down the pieces into the basin to cleanse it away of evil, "the splintered blades of Ama-no-Ohabari, the lost regalia belonging to exalted Izanagi-no-Okami."

The folding fan snapped close, that single moment of time seemed to freeze before his eyes as Kurasa thought of how ethereal his master was, so unlike his previous one, until a single thought through his mind. It was a wild guess, and yet... It slipped out, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Are you looking for _the_ Izanagi-no-Okami?" The goddess only spared him a mystifying glance and a bemused smirk, "close, but no."

* * *

The battle outside their keep razed with the intensity unlike he had ever seen, so brutal in fact that Kurasa dared not to look outside. Sounds of rumbling thunder and wind slashes, of storms and lights and _fire and shields hinting just outside the battle_ —

(He can hear the screams of Emishi and their allies alike _burned_   _away,_ and all because of one betrayal—one fire god who believed that he could overthrow the High Heaven through multiple layers of manipulation. _Homusubi_  was the lowest of the lowly gods, and he should be killed and then tracked under Heaven's watchful eyes.)

—his goddess remained fixed at her place, her eyes transfixed on the pieces of Ama-no-Ohabari that were almost complete. The hundred years that they had gone through together, finding the lost relics belonging to a missing god, with her still being unable to find _that person_ , and yet every pieces seemed to fall into place when he put Homusubi into the equation.

Ama-no-Ohabari was what beheaded the fire god. Her goddess might have been searching for Homusubi from the very start.

Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto’s violet eyes seemed to sing in praise as they locked with his, her smile warm and calm as she refuted again, her hand touching its _tsuka_. “No, but he is very close now,” she said softly, her tone somehow building a foreboding at the base of his bowel. Kurasa did not like how his goddess was being cryptic at this crucial time—

—she reached for his hand (when had she scooted over in the first place?) and grasped them comfortingly, her smile bright like the moon, “when you find him, promise me that you will stay by his side."

He did not understand her words until it was far, far too late.

* * *

He would like to think that the sky was crying when that fateful day came. He would like to think that, despite her cryptic messages, her soft but sombre mood, and her effort to uphold her obligation (but to  _whom_?), his goddess meant something more than just a legacy of lost items. Compared to Susano-O-no-Mikoto, Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto was always the better alternative to him, so he should at least mourn, or maybe _cry_ —

—but then Akisa had already trotted towards his back, the dark-haired man’s face buried on his shoulder as he fought the sobs that slowly crawled out of his throat. Tousa stood just beside him, his brown eyes gazing emptily at the remains of a keep that was burnt down during _Homusubi_ ’s onslaught of destruction. Kurasa suddenly felt the lump in his throat disappearing, his feelings being disconnected as he willed himself not to feel  _anything._

His goddess was there as the burning ruins fell rained down on her—the burning ruins that laid waste to deities and mortals alike.

Yusa—the blond spirit who ushered them to safety, who was ordered by Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto herself to wisp everyone away to safety—approached where he stood. Despite her effort to look strong, her puffy eyes did nothing to convince anyone. In her grip was the sacred blade that was salvaged from the ruins. "She wanted you to keep it safe."

Kurasa can only nod numbly and then took Ama-no-Ohabari, his hands trembling visibly as he brought it close.

(He was helpless— _so helpless and powerless._ )

* * *

The tenth day after their victory _(_ _slaughter)_ against Emishi, heaven's envoy came to his door and asked for the return of the sacred item to their safekeeping. Kurasa told them to go to hell and fled the scene. If it were not for Ryoen and Sakien's help, nor the support of his previous now-declared-missing master, he would have faced divine extermination.

Susano-O-no-Mikoto only asked him to keep that blade safe and advised him to remain hidden for the time-being. He assured the regalia that the others were safe—that the burden of traitor against heaven weighed on him alone. Hearing that news lifted his heart, if only for a bit, even when it was not the best arrangement. But Kurasa will endure no matter what, as he still had a task to finish. Perhaps his previous master understood his mission, to a certain degree, because not long after him saving his skin, the storm god disappeared from mortal and divine realms alike.

(Kurasa had always been good at tracing anybody’s whereabout, gods or mortals alike, but he can never track Susano-O when he did not want to be found thanks to Ryoen’s assistance. Also, he looked up to the straw-blond regalia, as well—therein lied his inferiority complex towards said regalia, rendering any tries to track both of them  _futile_.)

It was only fifty years later that the god showed on his doorsteps once more, the shadow misting over his amber eyes made him wanting to step away. The only reason that Kurasa did not was the presence just behind him: a tall, dark-haired man with closed eyes as if he was in trance, his form hovering just above the ground—an untainted spirit who the god dragged out from who knows where.

The sky rumbled as his previous master directly ordered, “hand over the Ama-no-Ohabari, _Mashien_."

The long-buried rage against this person surged out ( _‘how dare he call me by that_ name _that he forsook?!_ ’) as snapped back, “No."

“I don’t have time for this,” the storm god growled, Unki’s reddish aura was about to burn him to crisp when streaks of blue light enveloped— _protected—_ him from the storm god’s wrath. The red aura dispersed, while the remaining blue lights reformed back into a blade; Ama-no-Ohabari levitated between both of them. Susano-O-no-Mikoto took it without another word and fled the scene.

He never saw him since.

(Kurasa was left to bury his rage alone, again; this was the second in which that his previous master betrayed him so.)

* * *

The child came to his hideout—another traditional shack just by the rice-field, somewhere in Izu—bringing along the _Hafuri_ of late Tagorihime-no-Mikoto. Kurasa would have killed him—or rather, his traps would—had said regalia not protected him along the way. They should have give colder reception than this, though, because the dark-haired child had a smile plastered on his face, even after facing possible obliterations.

The first thing that crossed his mind was _how violet his eyes were_. The second thing that did was _how the way this child brought himself resonated reminded him of a certain missing celestial sword_ —

“She regrets it,” Munakata softly said, “the eventuality of having to leave you all behind."

Kurasa felt like blanching; if the Munakata-kami was who he said he is, then Kurasa knew that he was referring to his late goddess. But the regalia wisely held his tongue, his eyes staring darkly at the boy in his attempt to intimidate him ( _to stay strong_ ). Munakata did not yield out of obliviousness. Then, those violet eyes blinked for several times, the owner seeming to be in conversation with someone invisible until he finally stared back at the regalia… and smiled warmly.

“ _Hiki_."

Kurasa can only watch in shock as his vessel name hang between them, with the irrefutable evidence of his master’s return felt like a slap on his face. It did not stop at that, though, because Munakata was not done—

—he placed his hand over his own chest right where his heart _beat,_ as if to emphasize that _it was all about him_ , and spoke again. “ _I found him, Kurasa. I finally found him_."

Those were the last words belonging to Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto to her guide.

(‘ _I see._ ’)

* * *

The young god looked unsurely at the regalia of his past existence, violet eyes brimming wit questions, as he asked, “are you sure about this, _Kurasa_?"

Kurasa wanted to laugh then, because _he was not sure himself, was he_? But then he remembered his goddess’ words, her last plea for him to find _that person_  even after she passed on, and Kurasa found himself sighing wistfully.

“My goddess is dead, even when her name remains—even when your authority holds unto my name. But _Munakata,_ ” he paused, his impudence earning him a sharp glare from Tsuyori, who stood just beside the child god, “you are not her. You can never be _her_ ,” he emphasized and noticed how the god shifted on his footing wth violet eyes averted.

(' _Is that what you are trying to do? To become her?'_ )

"If you want me to serve as your regalia, you _will_ name me."

Maybe he struck the boy’s nerves, because Munakata’s lips quivered slightly at his short lecture. But the god eventually moved his hands, nonetheless. His index finger, glowing with a blue light, pointed at him. “ _Hiki_."

A single breath, a hand tracing his name—

“I release you of your name and, with my life, grant you anew."

—the sound of Kurasa's name breaking.

"Henceforth, your name shall be _Mi_ , its vessel _Ken_. Heed my call, _Kenki_!"

Thus, _Mirei_  did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **List of Regalias working under Ichikishimahime-no-Mikoto (Sa-family [差]):**
> 
>   * Saruhiko Fushimi (伏見猿比古, Fushimi Saruhiko) — human: 比/Hi - Kurasa [比差] | vessel: Hiki [比器] | Form: Luopan aka “Feng Shui Compass"
>   * Himori Akiyama (秋山 氷杜, Akiyama Himori) — human: 秋/Aki - Akisa [秋差] | vessel: Shuuki [秋器] | Form: A ceremonial folding fan for the purpose of divination
>   * Yuujiro Benzai (弁財 酉次郎, Benzai Yūjirō) — human: 郎/Tou - Tousa [郎差] | vessel: Rouki [郎器] | Form: A basin of holy water which is used to cleanse blight and make predictions
>   * Seri Awashima (淡島世理, Awashima Seri) — human: 世/Se - Yusa [世差] | vessel: Seiki [世器] | Form: An indestructible tri-nunchuck
> 

> 
> * * *
> 
> The Ama-no-Ohabari bit is important—to a degree.


End file.
